Of Hospital Visits and Stubborn Kids Who Refuse Anesthesia
by only-some-loser
Summary: Only Mac could get arrested for terrorism, beaten nearly to a pulp, and shot by a drug lord all on the same day. (tag to 2x11, Bullet Pen, episode AU)


**AN: This is the thirty-second installment of my personal challenge to write a tag for every episode. This is a tag to 2x11, Bullet + Pen. It goes AU, having the drug cartel guy show up a few minutes later than he does in the ep, and have slightly better aim when he finally does show up. I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before, but I can be found on tumblr as bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my so please come and say hi! I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!**

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Mac would've been lying if he'd said he wasn't scared. He was scared from the moment Matty said he was about to be arrested. He was scared when he was being handcuffed and read his Miranda rights, his fear filled eyes locked on Jack's, which were trying to provide him comfort and security. And as time went on, as he sat in that interrogation room, as he was denied his phone call and charged with domestic terrorism, his fear grew until he wasn't scared anymore. Mac was terrified. His mind kept going back to his week in prison a year prior, how many close calls there were, how many eyes were constantly wandering all over his body and how many hungry hands were reaching out to try to get a taste for themselves. Mac had to work hard to keep his face passive at the thought of going back there, and not just for another week, but for the rest of his life.

Seeing Jack made everything better. The moment his partner walked into the interrogation room, it was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Jack was there, so everything would be okay. Jack always made it okay. The moment Jack walked into the room, Mac wasn't terrified anymore. Jack would never let him go back to prison, he would never let him get hurt there by disgusting men who had nothing left to lose. Mac had no reason to be afraid as long as Jack was there.

But Jack wasn't there anymore. Jack wasn't there anymore and Mac was once again filled with fear at the seemingly never ending interrogation. He didn't blame the man for leaving. He knew he couldn't stay. But still, it was hard. What if Jack couldn't stop it? What if Mac was sent to prison for the rest of his life? With a charge like terrorism, he knew he wouldn't get a fair trial. Hopefully, he wouldn't be sent to GITMO. Since the charge was domestic terrorism, there was only one casualty, and he wasn't linked to any terror cells, hopefully he would just be sent to a maximum security prison like the one in Texas. But still, there were men like those men in Texas in every prison in the world, and Mac knew they wouldn't hesitate to have their way with him if the opportunity arose.

Mac took a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts. Thinking like that wouldn't help to get him out of this. Besides, Jack would never let that happen. If Mac were really sent to prison, Jack would be breaking him out and setting the two of them up somewhere off grid within the week. It was going to be okay. Jack would make it okay. He always did.

Mac barely kept himself from flinching in surprise when the door to the interrogation room swung open, revealing a whole squad of men, some of them cops, some of them not. The men quickly surrounded him, not saying a word. His cuffs were unlocked from the table, and he was dragged out of the room. No one was saying anything, and Mac knew better than to ask. He remained silent as he was led down hallways, and down a set of stairs. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn't going to be good. There was no reason for them to be bringing him to the basement unless they had something nefarious in store for him.

"Have at him," one of the cops said to the other men - federal agents of some type by the looks of it. " _Make_ him talk." Mac's eyes widened at the insinuation. They were going to beat him until he talked.

"Oh, come on-" he started, but was unable to finish due to the man standing behind him kicking the back of his knees, making him fall to the floor. Mac was glad his hands were cuffed in front of him, or else he wouldn't have been able to catch himself. The next kick came to his side, then another, and another, and another, until all the men were raining blows down on him. Mac tried to curl in on himself for a modicum of protection, but every time he tried to, someone would grab his arms and force them away from his body. He could barely contain his cries of pain as they continued to hit again, and again, and again.

"Ready to talk yet?" one of the dirty cops asked with a laugh. They finally stopped hitting him, standing around him as they chuckled at his pain. Gunshots stopped their laughter. Two men fell to the floor, likely dead, as the cops and agents started yelling and running for the doorway to the left. Mac quickly pulled himself up, his adrenaline helping him to ignore the pain, and ran in with the men who less than a minute earlier had been beating him.

Luckily, he was able to make the men listen to him to save their lives. His distraction did its job, just not quite how he would've liked it to. The small explosive flew straight and true, but so did a bullet from the cartel leader's gun. Mac fell to the ground with a shout of pain, his shoulder throbbing. He squeezed his eyes shut in a failed attempt to block out the pain as he groaned, ignoring everything else that was going on around him. No matter how many times he'd gotten shot, it always hurt like hell.

"Mac!"

The sound of his partner's voice, as always, was able to immediately capture Mac's attention, making him open his eyes and seek out the man belonging to the voice. There he was, running towards him in full TAC gear.

"Mac!" he shouted again, falling to his knees beside the blond. Jack immediately put his gloved hands on the bullet wound, eliciting a pained shout from the kid. "I'm sorry Mac, but you know I have to," he said. Mac squeezed his eyes shut again and quickly nodded his head. He understood, but that didn't mean it didn't still suck. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Did these bastards touch you?" Jack asked. Mac chose to ignore the question, but of course, that wouldn't work for Jack. "Mac, did they hurt you?" he asked again. "Never mind, you're going to the hospital anyway, so I'll find out there."

Someone - Mac couldn't be bothered to really look at who - ran up to them with a towel, which Jack then used to put pressure on the wound in place of his hands. Mac involuntarily let out a small whimper, his head falling towards Jack in search of comfort.

"I know, kid, I know. Getting shot sucks. But I gotta get you up and to the hospital. Can you stand, or do you need me to carry you?" Jack asked, his eyes full of concern.

"It's my shoulder, not my legs. I can walk," Mac insisted, moving quickly to stand, only to almost fall back as the pain intensified.

"Slowly, bud, come on," Jack said. He let Mac take the towel, and pulled the blond up himself. By the time Mac was standing, he was breathing heavily, his forehead resting against Jack's shoulder. "It's okay, kid. You're gonna be alright. We'll wait until you're ready, then we can go."

Mac nodded his head against Jack's shoulder. He was still trying to even out his breathing against the pain. Everything hurt. His shoulder, his chest, his torso, everything. After a minute, Mac knew they really had to leave, and he needed to get to a hospital.

As he always did, Jack helped him every step of the way. He helped him up the stairs and into his car, and apologized every time they hit a pothole on the way to the hospital. Despite the immense pain, all Mac could think about was how thankful he was that Jack had come through like he always did. Mac wasn't scared anymore. Jack came through, so everything was going to be okay. He wasn't going to prison again, which meant that he didn't have to be scared of lust filled eyes and wandering hands. After he recovered, everything would be fine. Jack always made everything fine.

* * *

Jack was furious. Not only had his partner been shot by the cartel leader, but he'd been beaten by men who disrespected the badge. Mac hadn't wanted to admit it, but he had been forced to when the doctors removed his shirt in order to treat the GSW. His entire chest, torso, and back, were covered in nasty black and blue bruises. Mac had been forced to admit that the men had planned to beat him until he talked. Jack knew there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, so he tried to calm himself down.

Jack's fury disappeared into panic the moment Mac let out a whimper of pain. Of course, the kid had refused anesthesia to get the stitches. It was a through and through shot, and it didn't hit anything badly enough to require surgery, only some very careful stitching. Mac hated anesthesia, so he let the doctors stitch him up without it. Jack thought the kid was being unnecessarily stubborn, but there wasn't much he could do about that either. But Mac's first whimper brought Jack's full attention back to the hurting kid in front of him. He quickly reached out and gripped the kid's hand. Mac held on tightly, squeezing it every time the pain got worse. Soon, Mac was holding onto it with a white knuckled grip. Jack ignored the pain in his own hand, and just sat right next to his partner, reminding him that he was right there, that he wasn't going anywhere, that everything was going to be okay. Mac leaned into the touch, eventually coming to lean entirely against the man at his side, with his head on top of Jack's shoulder.

Jack continued to hold the kid's hand, and squeezed his knee in assurance. He could hear Mac's hitched breaths as the doctors stitched up both sides of the wound. He knew it had to hurt like hell. Throughout the whole ordeal, Jack kept talking on and on about anything and everything, just to keep Mac's mind off the pain. He talked about Bruce Willis, the hot nurses in the hospital, the rising economy and record low unemployment levels, that one time he threw up on an airplane, and the time he lost his first tooth as a child. Despite the strangeness of it all, Jack thought it worked. Mac's whimpers had slowly quieted as he had been given something else to focus on, and his body became more and more relaxed against Jack's.

After the stitches were done, the hospital staff insisted that Mac stay for overnight observation, just in case the wound became infected, or he showed any signs of internal bleeding from the beating he took. As usual, Mac fought against it, but his argument lacked its usual fervor once Jack said that he would stay with him overnight. Maybe it wasn't the hospital this time, just the fear of being away from Jack. He knew they were a little codependent at times, but Jack figured that after the terrible day Mac had just had, that was fair.

"Thank you," Mac said once he was settled into the hospital bed. Jack was settled nicely into the recliner next to it - a step up from the usual plastic chair he claimed during hospital visits.

"What for?" Jack asked. As far as he knew, he hadn't helped the kid at all. He hadn't saved him from the dirty cops, from the GSW, or from getting wrongfully arrested in the first place.

"For not letting me go back to prison. I was so scared, Jack," he admitted. Jack figured this was the morphine talking - he had insisted that the kid get some pain meds, to help him sleep if nothing else. "I still have nightmares about prison sometimes. I was so scared that I would be sent to prison for life for terrorism. I was terrified, Jack, but you saved me, like you always do." Mac's eyes were beginning to fall closed. "You always save me."

Jack couldn't understand the undying faith the kid had in him, that could only be described as hero worship. He had failed the kid so many times, yet Mac always managed to act like Jack had hung the moon and the stars. Jack should've been there sooner, to save Mac from all of this pain, even to save him from a drug induced confession of fear. Life wasn't fair to the kid. Jack took a light hold of Mac's hand with a sigh.

"I'd never let that happen to you, kid," he said, despite knowing that Mac was already asleep. "You know I'd do anything for you. You're the one thing I can't lose. I'd break you out of prison myself. I'm never letting you go back there, get hurt there. _Never_."

Eventually, Jack himself fell asleep, Mac's hand held in his own, and thoughts of getting justice against the men who hurt his kid running through his head.


End file.
